Overworked
by A Bean
Summary: Alexander hasn't left his office in twelve days. George Washington finds out.


"Alexander?" What was he doing here so late?

The man in question didn't seem to hear. All that could be heard was the sound of the clock ticking and the scratch of Alexander's quill on paper.

George stepped closer. "Alexander."

He still didn't hear. George was about to call to him again when the mumbling under his breath slowed, and his eyes drooped. The hand ferociously writing stopped, and Alexander's head neared the desk. His forehead touched, ever so lightly, and suddenly he popped up again.

"What? Constitutional amendment!"

Alexander seemed to notice George in the room at that point, and looked at him confused, until he realized.

"M-Mister Washington! Sir!" He stood straight, or at least tried to, before he fell over.

"Hamilton," George greeted back.

"Sir," the voice came from underneath the desk, muffled.

"Alexander, how long have you been here?"

The secretary of state pulled himself up with much more effort than it should have taken. "I- I don't know, sir, about twelve days?"

Washington looked over the poor man, who now was sitting in his chair and leaning heavily against the desk.

"Do you- Do you happen to know, sir, how long I was sleeping?" Alexander asked, very softly.

"You didn't," Washington replied, watching him stifle a yawn. "Why have you been here for twelve days?"

"O-oh, well, Eliza's upstate with Angeli- Angelica, sir, and I have work to do here," he replied, looking at the three stacks of paper next to him.

"How much sleep have you gotten?"

"Uh," Alexander said eloquently. "About... eight? Eight hours? Probably less."

Washington took a deep breath. "When was the last time you ate?"

"A-about... three days ago? When J-Jefferson brought everyone the macaroni stuff." He yawned again, very wide. "Sorry, sir, I just..."

His head hit the desk before all of 'I just' had gotten out.

George rolled his eyes and went to his own office two doors down, leaving Hamilton sleeping. He picked up the phone.

"Martha? Yes, I am aware that it's two o'clock in the morning, but Alexander is coming home with us, okay? He needs sleep. Desperately. And the last time he ate was probably three days ago. Yes. Yep. Okay. Yes. Alright, I love you, Martha, take care. Ill be home soon."

George went back to Hamilton's office, where the man was furiously scratching again on the page.

"Alexander," he said, gently taking the quill from his hands. "Come on, you're going home."

"But- But I can't," the shorter man said, making wild grabs for the quill George was dangling in front of him. "I have... I have- I have work."

"Nope," George said. "Come on, get up."

Alexander grumbled but he got up eventually.

Then, he fell over onto the floor, asleep before he'd hit it. George chuckled at him, before bending down to lift him up.

"HUHWHAZZAT!" Alexander shouted, waking once more before George could actually do anything.

"Alexander, you keep falling asleep. Come on." George lifted him anyway and dragged him out of the room.

"But! My... my writing! I can't- I can't leave it, I'm-" Fruitlessly he struggled against the one handed grip the stronger man had on him, quite literally kicking and flailing. George didn't listen to his protests as he was dragged out and into the car.

"Y-you didn't have to do that, sir," he said, buckling himself in.

"Yes I did. Alexander Hamilton, it is two thirty in the morning and you are in desperate need of sleep." George drove the short way to his house, Hamilton falling asleep and waking again twice, each time sleeping for longer.

"Alright, Alexander, we're here," George said, gently shaking him to wake up again.

"You really-" he yawned "Don't have to."

"Yes, I do," George said. "Come on, inside."

Alexander followed him out of the car, holding onto George for fear of falling over. They went inside and George sat him on the couch, going to get blankets. When he got back, Alexander was already asleep.

Well, at least he had taken the care to leave his shoes off the couch, so his feet were hanging off. George removed the shoes and piled the blankets on top of the young man, who wouldn't wake for another three days.

In three days he would wake and eat all the food in the house, then he'd go back to sleep and then when he woke again twelve hours later, he'd get a stern talking to from George.

But now, all that is happening is the young man sleeping peacefully on a pinkish-purple flowered couch.


End file.
